


the thing around your wrist

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Inhuman registration, Naked Cuddling, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, post 4x04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8376952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: If she wants to keep going on missions with SHIELD Daisy is going to have to agree to wear an Asset Communication Device.(Post-4x04)





	

**i.**

“I’m sorry about this,” Coulson says, in that unreadable tone he’s kept since she came back. “This shouldn’t be necessary.”

Daisy draws one finger across the silvery surface of the wristwatch, feeling the hum of circuits underneath, unnoticeable if it weren’t for her powers. The Asset Communication Device - a fairly innocuous name for something that has already cost over a dozen Inhumans their lives. Daisy sighs silently.

“No, this is good,” she says. “If this allows me to help out around here, I’m willing to do it.”

She carelessly lifts her gaze and meets Coulson’s eyes. 

They are wider than usual, and his mouth is curled like he just saw something that makes him curious.

“What?” she asks, straightening her back against the chair, ready for the painful words to start coming any moment now. They have to be coming, and the wait is destroying Daisy’s nerves. If he is going to tell her how much he hates her for walking away, or worse, how much she hurt him, she wants to have it sooner rather than later.

She watches Coulson let out a tiny breath.

“All these months on your own…” he says. “And you haven’t changed a bit.”

Daisy looks away. She finds it hard meeting people’s eyes these days. She fears she’ll see all the hurt she’s caused them. She’s not sure what she fears will be in Coulson’s eyes now, but it’s not that hurt, or anger. 

 

**ii.**

He kneels by Daisy’s side and, stupid thing, but she focuses on how the pool of blood under her is beginning to stain his jeans. His hands go to her wounds but he freezes a moment, like he can’t choose which one to tend to, and he doesn’t have enough hands. Eventually he settles for the wide gash on her right shoulder and he presses, hard enough to make her see white for a second. But she recovers.

“You took off your wristwatch,” Coulson says.

It doesn’t sound like a reproach, though god knows she’d deserve it. Fortunately the pain doesn’t leave much room in her head for guilt at the moment. She does wonder how he managed to find her, though, but Coulson always finds her, doesn’t he?

She tries to smirk. “Only for a bit.”

He looks down at her body again. 

“A bit was enough,” he comments.

“Well, you should see the other guys.”

Coulson gives her joke a severe look. It’s the most severe look he’s given her since she’s began working with SHIELD again, and it has to be right when she is bleeding to death on a cold floor.

“Why?” he asks.

She doesn’t regret the decision to take off the tracking device - it was the right call, even if it ruins her chances of staying with the team. She shouldn’t want to stay. She _doesn’t_.

“It was too dangerous. I didn’t want to involve you.”

Coulson’s frown deepens. “Involve? We should have been your backup. The Watchdogs are our target too.”

Daisy shakes her head. She knows Coulson means it. That’s the problem.

“But not your enemy. You’re not Inhuman. You don’t have to risk your lives for this.”

Her cause - and her mother’s cause - has already cost the team too much.

“Daisy-”

“I can’t lose anymore…” she mutters, closing her eyes to shut out the pain. “I know it’s selfish, wanting to stay. I know I put you all in danger. Everyone around me…”

Coulson wraps one arm around her, and she can tell he is trying not to touch her in a way that would cause her more pain.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispers as he holds her. “I’m so sorry. None of this is your fault…”

She lets her head fall against Coulson’s chest, let’s herself be held.

Despite her wounds she is surprised how deeply she can finally breathe.

 

**iii.**

“It’s loose enough, right?”

“My arm has healed completely, it’s fine.”

Coulson seems a bit embarrassed that they have to go through this whole process. Daisy has watched him argue against it in front of the Director. _Daisy is a SHIELD agent, this is uncalled for_. But the Director gave them very reasonable, very calmly-expressed reasons why she still has to be monitored - _as an Inhuman, not as an agent_. Funny because good old Jeff didn’t have to wear one of those. Coulson seemed deflated when he saw Daisy wasn’t fighting the decision too much.

No Inhuman should have to wear one of these. But maybe the Director is right, and Daisy can’t be truly trusted. She decides perhaps, for now, it’s okay to try to do her best - isolating herself didn’t make her more effective, and if her people needs her to work with a team again, she’s is willing to go through being tagged like an animal for the time being.

But only for the time being.

“Try not to blow this one up,” Coulson tells her, teasing, trying to lighten the mood.

Daisy finds herself replying in kind for the first time in forever.

“They’re very expensive, aren’t they?”

His eyes twinkle a bit.

“So expensive.”

They share a knowing smile that feels a little too good - Daisy still doesn’t want to get too close, she knows how that usually goes for her.

But it’s Coulson the one who stops smiling first and his expression becomes concerned or...

“You’re really not angry I took off like that?” Daisy asks, leaning towards him on her chair, even though they are sitting pretty close already so he can configure her wristwatch.

She should know better than to prod.

“Angry that you went after the Watchdogs without telling us because you didn’t want to put us at risk?” He shakes his head. “Not angry. Just… sad that you think you have to do things on your own.”

Daisy drops her head.

She feels the ghost touch of Coulson’s hand as he wraps his fingers around her wrist for a moment. For a moment he squeezes, the next moment it’s gone.

Daisy looks up, wanting to ask why he did that, why he isn’t angry, why he’s being so painfully kind.

“I’m glad you want to stay,” he tells her.

“Thank you for letting me,” she says.

His expression softens again, like he’s trying not to smile.

“You’re welcome. We still need you.”

Daisy nods, not quite believing it, feeling oddly comforted by the words anyway.

 

**iv.**

He types in the code to open the wristwatch on the laptop. He looks pleased to be getting it off her after this last couple of months.

The Director didn’t take much convincing, this time, not after Daisy ended up being the last line of defense when the Watchdogs infiltrated the base. “ _Imagine how much more useful she’d be if we didn’t treat her like a half an ally half a threat_ ” was Coulson’s gamble, exchanging a look with her as the Director paced the office.

Coulson being Coulson he insisted being the one to take the Device off Daisy’s arm. And she has to admit she likes the symbolism of it, even though, really, he didn’t have to go through the trouble, she could have done it herself.

“You know this is not enough,” she says to him. “You know I won’t stop until we get this stupid thing off every Inhuman wrist.”

Coulson nods.

“I know. And I know you,” he adds. “You will make that happen. I’m sure.”

“Thanks.”

Distractedly she rubs her fingers across the inside of her wrist, feeling the slightly irritated skin underneath, now that it’s exposed. 

Coulson’s gaze follow her movements and his hands reach out and grab Daisy’s arm, right above the wrist. she widens her eyes, puzzled by the sudden physical contact. They stand in that stalemate for a few seconds, Coulson’s fingers around her skin, until he drops his head, pressing a kiss to Daisy’s wrist, right on the spot she had been rubbing in discomfort.

His lips are strangely warm, like he has a fever. Or maybe Daisy hasn’t been touched intimately in so long she has forgotten how it feels.

She freezes.

“Coulson…?”

He draws his lips away but he doesn’t look up.

He bends down again, pressing his forehead against her wrist.

“You’ve been alone for so long…” he says, his voice sounding like he’s heartbroken about it.

Daisy feels a piercing pain in her chest. She doesn’t want to hear him sound like that ever again. Slowly she lifts her hand to his head, still resting on her arm. She touches the tip of his hair carefully and Coulson doesn’t move away. Then, bolder, she starts stroking the back of his skull. He still doesn’t move away, and Daisy can feel him chase her touch, turning his head as she thread her hand through his hair. She does this for a long while, now enjoying the memory of his voice, half-broken because he couldn’t stand thinking of her in pain.

She runs the pads of her fingers from the crown of his head to the back of his neck, bringing her mouth to his hair and speaking softly.

“You’ve been lonely too.”

 

**v.**

That night she puts on her old bracelets, the cheap ones she bought on the beach the first time she set foot on L.A.

She still can’t believe the team kept all her things intact. She was a wanted criminal, after all. She took nothing but his suit and gauntlets and her Hula girl when she left. They kept all her clothes and trinkets. And now she feels like all these things, in her new bunk, have just been waiting for her.

She took nothing when she left - but maybe that has been a lie, all this time.

She puts them on a whim a whim and hours later (not quite morning yet, but almost) she is still wearing them, but nothing else. She doesn’t quite realize she has kept them on all night until Coulson starts playing with them between his fingers, as Daisy rests her hand on his stomach.

“I much prefer these,” he says, then moving his hand to her elbow and shoulder, stroking her tenderly. Daisy finds it strange how natural it looks on Coulson, this kind of thing. Sappiness, tenderness, happiness.

“Me too,” she replies, looking at her old bracelets, Coulson’s hand around her wrist.

“No more tagging you like an animal,” he says, kissing the top of her head, sounding regretful for having ever allowed it in the first place.

“No more tagging _anyone_ ,” Daisy corrects him, not maliciously, because Coulson gets it, but he can’t get it all the time.

He chuckles and brushes his lips against her cheek.

“I love you,” he tells her.

It’s not something he said last night, although it was implied all the time.

It’s not something he’s ever said to her before, although it was implied the whole time.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t get attached,” she tells him.

“Does this qualify as getting attached?” Coulson asks, looking down at their bodies, limbs entangled with each other, casually, as if this weren’t the first time.

Daisy nods. “Very much.”

Coulson groans wearily, sliding his body down the bed. They have been up all night, talking and _not talking_ and they are both beginning to feel the exhaustion. He closes his eyes and he presses his head to the side of her breast, nosing the softest part.

“Then I’m glad that, for the first time in history, Daisy Johnson didn’t keep her promise,” he says.

Me too, she thinks.

Deep down, she always knew she was going to break it, from the beginning, it was implied the whole time.


End file.
